tales of Suchita

You were going somewhere, I think
this idea that I had in the middle of a work day
that made me feel all sparkly inside
filled with possibilities and the conviction
it would bring me out of my writing block.

You were going somewhere, I think
this kaleidoscopic image that came to me
while I was trying to hold a plank
convincing me with its bright colours
that this would be an idea worth working on.

You were going somewhere, I think
this document I have titled Token number 2015678
a dystopian novel that stopped at 2150 words
with charming character names like Big D, Fish and Bee
I wonder if I’d ever pick you up again.

You were definitely going somewhere
a draft tentatively titled Uton
with 9579 words of some of my most interesting writing.
I hope you don’t become another footnote
in this ode to my unfinished drafts.

You were going somewhere, I think
Rudra, Varad, Radha, Shades and Abhor, Brij and Anamika
pieces of my heart that are lying in wait
abandoned as soon as the inspiration dried up
is it your destiny to remain in those dusty drafts?

You were going somewhere, I think
which is why I bought a notebook to
make it easier to write you.
But once again the motivation, discipline, drive
fled and I left you stranded at the back of a drawer.

I learned recently that not all inspiration
need convert into a project. Some may
simply remain at that unfinished stage…
waiting or forgotten. I like to think perhaps
their journey with me was limited to only so much.

Then why does it feel like a graveyard
of lost words, dreams, characters and stories
waiting, waiting, waiting,
for me to show up and pick up the pen
so they could actually go somewhere.

You were going somewhere, I think
this ode to my unfinished drafts
perhaps I wanted to laugh or take a dig at myself
but now I am melancholic thinking of you
and if it’s time to bid you goodbye?

What would happen if I
moved onto other ideas,
started from scratch and left you to your devices
would you sneak into my other works
finding a second chance at a new life?

Is that what abandoned, unfinished drafts are for?
To go only till the middle, not the end
and once that serves its purpose
much like the sun sets, the curtain drops
and the show is over?

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For Letter Y, written as part of #BlogchatterA2Z